A Moment of Fragile Silence
by Harey
Summary: Forgiveness, or rejection?  Or something else entirely? [KayeRoiben alternate Ironside ending]


**AN: Okay. I wrote this because, honestly, I wasn't satisfied with Ironside's ending. I mean, I know it was intended to make their relationship "move from an idealized place to a real recognition of one another, faults and all", from the mouth of Holly Black herself, but I don't think Kaye would have forgiven Roiben so easily. I certainly wouldn't have. I still haven't. It was like they went from awkward to easy with one another, but it was forced, somehow. I don't know. I believe my version accurately caputred the idea she wanted, and made it more realistic, somehow. If you disagree, be sure to let me know.**

**DO NOT BE AFRAID TO GIVE HONEST REVIEWS.**

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"I know I failed you," Roiben said softly, not even really meeting her eyes. "In--"

"Yeah. You did." Kaye's voice was colder than the frigid air around them, although her breath still smoked in it. He thought he heard a slight undercurrent of regret, barely detectable under the surface. He loved her more, he thought, in that moment than he had ever before

But it was a sad, desperate kind of love, one that could not be gratified, and now, he knew, returned. That powerful kind of love only grew with rejection and pain. Why was he always cursed with wanting what he could never have?

There was a moment of fragile silence, a sort of time that made pain both intensify and recede. It hung in the air, as if deciding something.

Forgiveness, or rejection? Or something else entirely?

"Why?" she asked, as if the reason made a difference. "You _knew_. You knew I was there."

Neither of them really knew what his silence meant.

"Well? Why don't you _say_ something?" He saw her cheeks, stained with tears. But his tears wouldn't come. Being made of stone had its negative aspects, after all. He was beginning to regret the decision to become something other than flesh.

"Nothing...would be good enough for you..." His voice was almost a whisper, as if he were afraid to speak the words aloud.

She turned away from him, disgusted at the way he couldn't make himself look at her.

"You're right. It wouldn't." Still, that regret.

"What do you want, then?" He was giving up. She didn't love him. Maybe once, but ...he had failed. "You are my consort. You cannot part with me now."

Why was he doing this? He couldn't guilt her into loving him. But how could he tell her? How could he tell her that he was grieving for Silarial, that he _had _loved her, that he had loved them both...? That he was grieving for who he used to be, for who he _wanted_ to be, for who she thought he was...? He tried to tell himself that she had idealized, romanticized, but he was guilty of the same.

_What manner of honesty is this?_

He had to find some way to reconcile with her. Make it right again.

But desires change.

"Is that what this is about? You _owning_ me?" She spun around to face him again, and her eyes seemed darker in the moonlight that outlined her in silver than in any other light he had seen. Could black ever seem darker? Just like him to be filled with odd questions like that in a situation like this.

"No." He shook his head. "That's not it at all. I just...don't want you to hate me." He felt absurd. Why on earth couldn't he express himself properly in times like these?

Kaye gave a short little sigh. "I don't hate you, Roiben. I love you. But...I _really _don't like you right now."

Why did he always have to do this? Every time he tried to prove himself, he ended up disproving himself somehow. There was always a price for love somewhere.

But at least she loved him. He had to keep telling himself that. Even if she hadn't forgiven him.

And somehow, that made perfect sense.

"Kaye," he began very softly, "It's not that I don't love you or that I want to own you. I don't. I did love Silarial. And I loved you. And that hasn't changed. But the difference is...I didn't want to love her."

_Why_ had it taken him that long to get it out? Maybe, oddly enough, he hadn't known himself until he'd said it aloud. Hadn't wanted to know. Had _refused_ to know.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't know how I'm going to forgive myself. But..." He looked right into her eyes this time, careful to let her know that he was spread out before her, laid open to her. He was _hers_.

"I just wanted you to know."

Her smile, though small, was more sincere and honest than any he had ever seen. "Okay," she whispered, "okay."


End file.
